


keep the candlelight burning (for me)

by useyourtelescope



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Plus a short appearance from Esther, Post-Season/Series 01, RomCom Regency-style, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21608647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourtelescope/pseuds/useyourtelescope
Summary: Charlotte has been settled in London for many years by the time she approaches eight and twenty - even if the manner in which she is settled is a far cry from what her family had imagined for her.Although still unmarried, she has never looked back from her decision to become business partners with Mr. Stringer. The work may not always be easy, but she enjoys her independence and is perfectly content with her day-to-day life.Or rather, she does until a potential new investor forces Charlotte to consider her situation in a new light.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/James Stringer
Comments: 28
Kudos: 110
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	keep the candlelight burning (for me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackEyedGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/gifts).



> I loved your prompt of Charlotte & Stringer "starting a business together where he designed buildings and she kept everyone in line while inadvertently charming unknown rich heiresses/widows into investing with them", though I've taken that more as a jumping off point for this fic. I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> And thank you very much to aurilly for betaing.

“I thought you said that window was to face the east,” Charlotte remarked. She leant over his shoulder to better inspect the drawing in question.

“And I thought you still had work of your own to complete instead of criticising mine,” Stringer replied. He took care in moving his drawing further down the desk so she could not see it so clearly in the waning candlelight, laughing as she pouted.

“I am only taking a small break,” Charlotte said, leaning her hip against his desk as Stringer vainly attempted to ignore her interruption. “The numbers all start to become one if you look at them long enough.”

“Then maybe you should go home, Miss,” he said, even though he knew it was fruitless. No matter the time, Charlotte would not listen to prompts to finish early – just as he would not listen when she told him he did not need to keep calling her _Miss Heywood_ after all these years. At least she had learned to stop asking him, even if he had not.

Acting as a partner in an architectural business as an unmarried lady was not what her parents had wanted for their eldest daughter. They had been less than willing to entertain the idea when she had explained it to them at three and twenty, though they presumed it was only a passing fancy. Now she was nigh on approaching eight and twenty, Mr. and Mrs. Heywood were quite at a loss to understand where they had gone wrong.

It must have been that trip to Sanditon, her father liked to remark. Considering the upset state she had been in when she returned from the town, he had taken to blaming that trip whenever Charlotte later suggested something he did not like. Though she supposed he was not always so far off the mark. Her time in Sanditon had taught her something of the world that Willingden could not, but it had more to blame than usual for this venture since that was also where she had originally met her business partner, Mr. Stringer.

“When do you plan to go home?” she said.

“I still need to finish this wall, but I can walk you home afterwards.”

He did not suggest the alternative of asking Jem to wait longer for her, for they both knew she would not stay later than he did. Although she was fond of all the boys they employed, if she stayed after dark – which was unfortunately a common occurrence at the moment – she liked it best when Stringer could walk her home. It was easiest to continue discussing matters such as their larger plans for the business while they were out, without the distractions of needing to complete the many everyday tasks they had to fulfil.

She walked downstairs to send Jem home and check that no one else remained before returning to the top room in their office. She lit a new candle and took a seat at her desk opposite Stringer’s and tried to focus once more on the numbers.

That was her main role in the business. Stringer wasn’t bad at the numbers, but he lacked patience for what he considered a distraction from his true passions of design and construction. Their latest project was the largest they had attempted, and though they were still in the design stage they would need to increase their investment significantly in order to pull it off. Though there had been many who looked sceptically at their business, Charlotte had found success with less conventional routes to finding investors.

Her connection to Lady Susan, which had first brought her to London, had introduced her to many wealthy ladies who were interested in increasing their money and did not immediately look down on a business run by a lady and the son of a stone mason. At least, they did not when the lady was so charming, Lady Susan flattered Charlotte.

She was meeting a new set of potential investors the following morning so she needed to have the latest projections correct. She managed to work in silence opposite Stringer until he had finished his drawing, keeping her questions on his latest design to herself until he was walking her back.

There was a cool breeze in the air as they made the short journey to her small apartment. Lady Susan had been more than happy to play host to Charlotte, even when she long overstayed her initial invite to London, but Charlotte had been very proud of the fact that for some years now she had kept both the apartment and her maid using wages she had earned herself. She and Stringer filled the time easily with discussions on their current project and idle chatter about their small staff.

“I think I might not have practiced my speech enough for tomorrow,” she wondered idly as they turned onto her street.

“Is it not the same speech as before?” Stringer asked.

“I must vary it a little,” she explained. “Depending on the ladies.”

“And how do you know how to vary it when you have not met the ladies yet?”

“Lady Susan told me what she knew of them before she left for Brighton yesterday. She is not very keen on one of them, a Mrs. Croft, but apparently her late husband left her more money than she knows what to do with. If I can manage to convince her to invest, then it will not matter about the others. Why, we could even speed up our plans.”

Stringer nodded understandingly. “And that would be a fine thing, but not worth you losing sleep over by staying up to practice again.”

Charlotte smiled to herself as they walked on. After so many years of working side by side, Stringer knew her all too well. “I will make you a deal. I promise not to stay up practicing if _you_ promise not to work on another design when you get home.”

He laughed at that and she knew she had hit the mark as well. “Very well, Miss. I promise I shall go straight to bed.”

When she bid him goodnight shortly after, she did so with a reminder of who to keep an eye on tomorrow, for Jack had taken to daydreaming at his desk and she did not know what time she would be able to come in to the office to check on them all.

As it was, she returned to the office rather earlier than expected when her meeting with the ladies took an unusual turn. Although Miss Bragg and Mrs. Steele were very pleased by Charlotte’s proposals, Mrs. Croft was quite reserved. When pressed, Mrs. Croft insisted on visiting the office before she made her decision, desirous of knowing more about the place she would be investing in. It was an uncommon request, but a fair one. When it had been made in the past, however, there had been time to prepare for such a thing. Mrs. Croft insisted if it were not that morning then it would be weeks before she would be available again.

Charlotte managed to send a letter warning of their arrival, but was certain they must have only just received it when she entered with Mrs. Croft. Jem was still trying to tidy up, while the others were busy at their desks. Some looked up, but returned to their work following Charlotte’s nod.

Stringer came down as she began explaining the way they worked. He must have just gone up to fetch his jacket for he almost never wore it indoors.

“And Mrs. Croft, this is Mr. Stringer.” Charlotte made the introductions, unable to help noting a more pleased smile than she had earlier seen grace Mrs. Croft’s face.

“Then it was _your_ sketches that delighted us so this morning,” the lady said, smiling prettily.

Charlotte had to work not to let her face fall into a frown. Mrs. Croft had shown the least enthusiasm of anyone that day over the drawings.

Stringer accepted the compliment gracefully, but before he could continue, Mrs. Croft was insisting he walk her around the office and explain their work, dragging him away so he was forced to oblige. For all that Stringer tried to include her in the explanations, regularly looking over at her for various confirmations, Charlotte felt like something of a spare part following them around.

Although Stringer seemed uncomfortable with the level of attention – or perhaps it was just the way Mrs. Croft gripped his arm so tightly – the rest of the men seemed charmed when she stopped at their desks and cooed over their work.

Regular internal reminders of Mrs. Croft’s extreme wealth were all that sustained Charlotte through the ordeal.

“I hope everything was to your satisfaction,” Charlotte said politely, once she had taken Mrs. Croft to the upstairs office so they could talk in private. Stringer had left for a meeting so it was just the two of them again.

“It is quite a nice little place you have here,” Mrs. Croft admitted in a tone that suggested she had not expected to be charmed. “But I believe one invests not only in a business but in the people running it. Do you understand?”

Charlotte understood only that Mrs. Croft was wasting her entire morning and gritted her teeth.

“I must be able to trust that the people I am investing in will deliver,” she continued.

“Of course.”

“Lady Susan has told me all about you, but I’m afraid I don’t know very much about your business partner.”

“I’m sure I can answer any questions about Mr. Stringer. As I said this morning, he was formerly apprentice to Lord –”

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Croft said dismissively, “You have given his credentials admirably. But that does not tell me the character of the man.”

Charlotte took offense at this perceived slight, but Mrs. Croft went on, “Is Mr. Stringer fond of music?”

Now Charlotte was very confused. “Well, yes, I believe he is. But I’m afraid I don’t know what liking music tells you about his character in running a business.”

“No, child,” Mrs. Croft said, as if she was significantly more than only seven years Charlotte’s senior, “I would like him to be my guest at a musical performance a friend of mine is hosting next Friday. That will provide me the opportunity to see his character for myself. May I?” she added, gesturing to Charlotte’s desk.

Charlotte nodded dumbly, watching in silence as Mrs. Croft sat at her desk, pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled a missive on it. Then she folded it up and handed it to Charlotte.

“Will you pass this to Mr. Stringer for me? With my warmest regards.”

* * *

Stringer was surprised by the invitation, to say the least, and seemed inclined to reject it. However, when Charlotte insisted that he attend on behalf of the business he found himself responding affirmatively.

Charlotte could not say she trusted Mrs. Croft, but there were worse ways to obtain an investment. Besides, Stringer would probably enjoy the music, and Charlotte could not remember the last time he had spent an evening not working. He certainly refused the few invitations he received to dances or dinners unless Charlotte managed to persuade him otherwise.

Perhaps that was why it was something of a shock to return to the office Friday evening and find Stringer dressed in his best evening suit. She had convinced him to buy a new one a few years prior, his previous sole evening suit showing its age from being out of fashion rather than wear, but it had been a long time since she had seen him wearing it. She had forgotten just how well Stringer looked in it. He stood downstairs talking with the boys that were still there, taking their jeers at his polished appearance good-naturedly.

Charlotte hadn’t realised she was staring from the entryway until their youngest employee Jem approached her, asking jovially, “Mr. Stringer cleans up all right, doesn’t he Miss Charlotte?”

“Er, yes,” she said quickly. “Have you sorted those files I asked you to, Jem?”

“I did start them, but then I had to make some deliveries for Mr. Stringer,” he said, somewhat apologetically.

“That’s alright. Just make sure you finish them tonight, mind,” Charlotte said, straightening his crooked collar absent-mindedly.

“Yes, Miss Charlotte.”

He turned and dashed off, not without eliciting a promise from Stringer to tell him about the musicale. Stringer agreed easily before approaching Charlotte, whom he had now noticed hovering by the staircase.

“Are you ready for the performance?” Charlotte asked.

“I believe so,” he said, glancing down at the fine jacket. “I’ll do my best not to disappoint the business, anyway.”

“Of course you won’t,” Charlotte responded easily. She had a sudden urge to adjust the collar of his jacket, but although the action had come so easy with Jem, Charlotte felt very certain she should not repeat it now. Clasping her hands together tightly, she said, “And I hope you enjoy yourself as well.”

From behind them, they overheard Luke murmur to Jack, “He certainly will in the company of all the fine ladies.” Jack had barely time to laugh in response before Stringer had whirled on them, a stern glare on his face. Charlotte normally responded to such comments with a similar look of her own, but it did not form quite so easily tonight.

The men were chastened enough to apologise anyway, leaving shortly when Stringer did.

She tried not to think of her reaction to the jibe as she worked on the books that evening. When Charlotte did work late it was rare for Stringer not to be there, but it did happen occasionally. There was no reason for the room to feel as quiet as it did, or for her to be so distracted. If anything she should be working faster, since she was not able to ask Stringer questions whenever she was bored.

Although she could not explain the extent of her distraction, Charlotte did allow herself to be pleased when Stringer returned.

“I didn’t expect to see you again tonight,” she said, smiling as he closed the door behind him. “Was the musicale not to your liking?”

“It was very pleasant. Only I wanted to catch up on some of the work I had missed tonight,” he replied, taking off his fine jacket and hanging it up with more care than he did with his usual one. “But you should have gone home by now, Miss Heywood.”

“I won’t be too much longer. And before you scold me, Jem is waiting downstairs to see me home safely.”

“I saw – not that he saw me at first, given he had all but fallen asleep.”

“Oh dear.” Charlotte frowned.

“I said he could go for today,” Stringer continued, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll see you home when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” She did not comment that this would mean he would be leaving again shortly and would have to continue at home if he really wanted to finish his sketch tonight, where he could have gone directly anyway. Or perhaps, she thought as he took his seat opposite hers, she could do some of the work she was going to save for tomorrow, so they did not have to go quite so soon. “And how were Mrs. Croft and her friends?” she asked.

“Very well,” he replied easily, though his gaze was focused on the drawing he had just unfolded. “She did not have as many questions about the business as I might have thought,” he said with a hint of confusion, though Charlotte was not at all surprised by this, “but a number of her friends were interested. And she said she would write to you regarding the investment.”

“That sounds like a successful evening then,” Charlotte said, pleased. “And, uh,” she could not help but add, remembering the boys’ words from earlier, “were the many fine ladies in attendance to your liking?”

He laughed warmly then, as if she had surprised him, which Charlotte always relished. “I am sure no one could have found anything to dislike in them.”

“Indeed.” She knew she should let the conversation end there. And yet, she went on, “But did none take your particular fancy?”

She said this in jest, but he seemed to consider it quite seriously, finally responding with a question of his own. “Is there something you wish to ask me?”

Charlotte pursed her lips. After working so closely together, they had fallen into speaking quite directly with each other over the years, so it should have been obvious Stringer would see through her attempt at dancing around the subject. “Only that after what the boys said earlier, I thought… well, you are of an age when many men consider taking a wife, if they have not already,” she explained in a rush. “Certainly you can afford it now, especially with Mrs. Croft’s money.”

A teasing smile graced his lips as he stared at her over the tops of their desks. “Are you suggesting I marry Mrs. Croft?”

“No!” Charlotte exclaimed. Then, with just as much vigour, “Not unless you want to, of course.” She looked back down to her book in frustration. “I only meant that if we have indeed secured Mrs. Croft’s investment that the financial cost of supporting a wife in addition to the business would be of less concern – which you very well know I meant,” she said pointedly, glaring up at him.

He grinned before returning to his drawing.

When he did not say anything else she asked, “Are you trying to escape from answering my question?”

It was a long time before he replied, and his face seemed to have lost some of its lightness. “I have not thought about marriage for some time,” he admitted. “I suppose I have been too busy with the business. I can’t say I have any great plans for the future.”

Charlotte nodded in understanding.

“Have, uh,” he began, before clearing his throat, “have you been thinking about marriage?”

“Not for myself,” Charlotte said easily. It was not something she could forget for long given the regularity with which her family broached the subject in their letters, but she had not given it serious thought for some time. She had received a few proposals over the years, and had even liked some of the men delivering them quite well, but she had never liked any well enough to tempt her to change her situation. “I have been too focused on the business as well.”

He seemed to accept this answer and they both settled into their work. However, Charlotte couldn’t help but think the silence did not feel as comforting as it normally did.

* * *

When Mrs. Croft’s letter to Charlotte did come the following week confirming her investment, it was accompanied by a further note addressed to Stringer, this time asking for him to join her at the theatre. Charlotte noticed Stringer showed far less hesitation in accepting this further invitation, for they both agreed it would not do to displease her given the size of her investment; and he could speak again with some of the other interested parties who would be in attendance, which Charlotte could not but think was good sense.

But she could not quite _like_ it either.

On the day he was to attend the theatre, Charlotte spent her afternoon meeting a much less trying investor, an old friend of Lady Susan’s recently returned from the continent. Their conversation was very pleasant, and a welcome distraction, but on her return to the office Charlotte could not but think of the upcoming evening with inexplicable unease.

Her discomfort turned quickly into shock and embarrassment when she opened the door to the upstairs office and found Stringer fastening his waistcoat.

She quickly turned her head, though she then felt embarrassed at her blushing cheeks. She had seen far more than a man’s collarbone before. Why, she had even seen Stringer’s chest once when there had been an accident on one of their early buildings and she had to see to the wound until the doctor arrived. She had not felt embarrassed then, and there was certainly no reason to be embarrassed now. Therefore, she took a deep breath and ventured inside.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I didn’t know you were still here,” she said before closing the door behind her. 

“I meant to have gone by now, I didn’t notice the time,” he explained, pulling on his jacket.

She tried not to watch him as she put her things on her desk, but couldn’t stop herself when she noticed him reaching for his necktie. “Wait, you still have chalk on your hands.”

She picked up a cloth and dusted part of his jacket that had become flecked. Then she passed him the cloth to clean his hands.

“I suppose I shall be laughed out the theatre at this rate.”

“Not once you have finished cleaning yourself up,” she replied, reaching for the necktie and setting it around his neck. She faltered in the action when Stringer abruptly halted wiping his hands. She was not sure what had come over her. She used to help Jem with his necktie until he got the hang of it, and some of the other boys sometimes asked her advice on dress, but she had never done anything like that for Stringer. She had never needed to.

Of course, now that she had started, it seemed that she would draw more attention to it if she stopped, so she continued. Charlotte told herself it was just like doing Jem’s necktie, never mind that Jem had been a good deal shorter than her when she had taught him, reminding her of helping her younger brothers. This did not feel like that. She did not normally think Stringer was particularly taller than her, but it felt more significant when they were so near. It was not like a dance where there was plenty of movement to distract her from the finer details of the intimate position.

It had been a long time since she had stood so close to a man that she could feel his breath tickle her cheek.

“Did Mrs. Croft say what the performance was tonight?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the odd, though not unpleasant, sensation.

“Only that it was a drama.” She felt the words reverberate in his throat beneath her fingers.

“I hope it is an interesting one,” she said, concentrating very hard on the knot.

“As do I. It is a shame she did not extend the invite to you as well.”

“It is no matter.” Charlotte was not desirous of going to the theatre with Mrs. Croft in any event. “Well, there you are.” Her task complete, she retreated to her desk with great haste. She noticed out of the corner of her eye Stringer was not moving, but she did not dare look at him.

“You know I would much rather stay here, don’t you?”

Her breath caught in her throat abruptly. Charlotte’s gaze remained firmly fixed on her book, flipping through the pages as she asked disinterestedly, “You would?”

“Yes.” He hesitated before continuing lightly, “I have far too much work to do.”

“Of course.” Charlotte nodded though the amused response made her feel disappointed rather than anything else. “You must not let Mrs. Croft hear you say anything like that. She would be most insulted now that you have become a favourite of hers.”

“I would hardly say two invitations warrants that term,” he said with amusement. “I think she is just the kind of woman who enjoys a lot of company.”

“Not just _any_ company,” Charlotte could not help but note.

“True, she seems quite keen on having a very varied circle. Now that she can count an architect alongside the lawyer and banker already in her party, I think a doctor must be next.”

He said this in jest, but it did not bring Charlotte any comfort to think of Stringer as being one of many ornaments that Mrs. Croft liked to show off. 

“You are sure you don’t mind that you were not invited, Miss Heywood?” he asked. “I could stay –”

“No, of course you cannot. And I am fine, do not worry. You must try to enjoy yourself tonight. And certainly don’t start thinking about your sketches during the boring parts,” she admonished. “The boys will want to know the whole story of the play tomorrow.”

Stringer laughed, knowing the truth of it. “I will do my best, Miss Heywood.” She braved looking up, but when the candlelight shone on the gleam of his smile she wished she had not.

Charlotte returned her gaze to her book, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Well, you best be on your way. It will not do to keep Mrs. Croft waiting.”

“No, it will not.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw him reach for his hat and head to the door. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, James.”

For a moment, Charlotte thought she sensed he had stopped by the door. But she must have imagined it, for just as suddenly he was gone.

“Miss Charlotte?”

The soft call was followed by a knock on the door. When she answered, looking up from the desk she found Jem peering over the handle.

“Yes, Jem?” she prompted when he didn’t speak right away.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Stringer said to remind you if it got very late.”

“Oh, I see.” Charlotte turned back to her desk, realising her productivity had been low tonight despite the fact that she had stayed so long the candle was down to a small stub. 

She had not believed herself to be hoping for Stringer’s arrival, but now that she was sure he would not return tonight Charlotte felt her heart sink. There was no logical reason to be disappointed, for she had seen him only a few hours before and would see him again the next day, and yet the feeling was unmistakable. Suddenly, she knew she would always be disappointed not to spend her evening in his company.

She did not prefer for Stringer to walk her home so they could discuss the business, she realised. She liked it because it prolonged their time together; never mind that she already saw him ten times more often than she did anyone else. There could only be one reason and it must be that she loved him more than anyone too. 

Charlotte stood abruptly, the sharp scraping sound of her chair startling Jem into taking a step back. “Yes, let’s go,” she said, doing her utmost to ignore the churning in her stomach. 

* * *

The only person who had been more surprised than Charlotte to realise that she had formed a close friendship with Lady Esther Babington over the last six years was Esther herself. Esther had already been settled in London by the time Lady Susan had convinced Charlotte to give London a chance and a few accidental meetings had led them to discover they actually enjoyed each other’s company. Esther had been supportive of Charlotte’s venture into the business world as well, even introducing her to some investors through her and Lord Babington’s connections.

Charlotte usually saw Esther more frequently than most in her circle outside of Stringer and the boys at work, but as Esther had recently taken ill she had not seen her friend for nigh on a month. Esther had been able to write, assuring Charlotte she was kept away more on a strict instruction not to spread the illness rather than truly being at death’s door, but Charlotte was still wary when she was finally able to visit her friend again for tea.

“Are you sure you are feeling much better, Esther?” Charlotte asked, observing her appearance. “You do look a little pale.”

“You sound like Babington. Honestly, I am sure I did not need to stay in bed quite so much as he insisted,” Esther complained though Charlotte noted the smile in her eyes. “If I am pale it is only from lack of sunlight.” They were taking tea in the garden so she tipped her face up to the sun now.

“Then I am glad you are well again, Esther.”

“As am I, for I have been rather bored.” Taking a teacup into her lap, she turned back to Charlotte. “I’m sure you have not been bored these last few weeks though. Were you able to secure the new investors you needed.”

“Yes, I have actually.”

Esther studied her carefully. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

Charlotte pursed her lips. “Do you know a Mrs. Croft? She is a widow recently returned to London from Bath.”

Esther mused on this, eventually nodding. “I believe I have heard of her, though I have never had the pleasure myself.”

“You are fortunate indeed,” Charlotte huffed before helping herself to a biscuit.

Esther smiled into her teacup before taking a sip. Although Charlotte had learned to better temper her candour over the years of courting investors, she could not but slip into more open habits with friends. And Esther certainly would never stand for any false civility.

“You must tell me everything.” To some, her cool tone would suggest disinterest, but Charlotte knew it was all amusement.

Relishing in finally having a willing audience to relate the whole history of her interactions with Mrs. Croft, Charlotte spared none of the details.

In the weeks since Mrs. Croft had confirmed her investment, Stringer had been invited to the theatre yet again and to another musicale. He had been forced to decline the latest one – an invitation to the opera for next week – for it clashed with a meeting of a growing architectural society he was part of, but Charlotte had no doubt another would follow shortly.

Esther listened patiently, her fingers tapping her teacup idly as Charlotte finished her tale. “I see,” she said finally, though her tentative nod suggested otherwise. “How very odious of Mrs. Croft to neglect you from all these invitations.”

“It is not that,” Charlotte said. “I am only thinking of Mr. Stringer. Why, it is so tiresome for him.” Charlotte had been wrestling with her newly realised feelings for her business partner and though she was not ready to share them with Esther, she could still express concern for him as a friend.

“Tiresome?” Esther repeated carefully. “You think Mr. Stringer does not appreciate sampling the fine arts?”

“Oh no, I am sure he does. He is very well read and I think he has enjoyed the plays particularly. Only he does not always enjoy London society. Why that was one of the reasons we first came to our arrangement,” Charlotte explained. “So he could concentrate on the designing and the building and I would handle the money and the people.”

“I can understand Mr. Stringer had reason to feel that way when he first came to London,” Esther observed delicately, “but I would venture that a man of his age may feel very differently about London society in the company of Mrs. Croft and her friends. Especially when he has been so singled out.”

“I am sure his opinion has not changed,” Charlotte said confidently.

“Why in that case we simply _must_ think of a way to save your poor Mr. Stringer from the torture of accompanying so many eligible ladies to the evening entertainments.”

“There is no need to put it like that, Esther. And he is not _my_ Mr. Stringer!” Charlotte added, flushing at the realisation.

Esther raised one perfectly arched eyebrow as she lifted her teacup to her lips. "No, indeed he is not."

* * *

Charlotte paced around the little office, alternately studying the sums she had laid out on her desk and watching out the window.

Stringer had not said for certain that he would return to the office after the architectural society meeting, but as it was not intended to finish late it seemed very likely.

Now that the time drew nearer to when he would appear, if he was to come at all, she found herself worrying whether she should go through with her plan.

She could not say what exact moment had sparked the idea, but the more she had thought about it, the more it made sense. And tonight had seemed like the perfect opportunity to work on these different numbers, when Stringer would not be able to see them until she had completed. Now that she had though, she had to actually go through with showing them to him.

“Still here, Miss Heywood?” he said jovially as he entered their shared space. “I think you might be getting worse than me.”

She smiled tightly from her place by the window. “How was your meeting?”

He seemed puzzled that she avoided his teasing but replied, “Very good.” He related the details of the meeting as he took off his jacket and set up his desk, but though Charlotte nodded appropriately she found she could not register the words well.

He clearly noticed her odd behaviour, eventually asking, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, indeed,” she said with feigned cheer.

His brows drew close together as he studied her. “Only you seem very quiet this evening.”

“I… I have only been thinking. In fact, I have been doing a great deal of thinking,” she said marching around him to reach her desk and straightening her papers, “about us.”

“Us?”

“About our business,” she corrected quickly. “I have had an idea that I think will be a great help. To the business.”

He looked cautious in asking, “And what is that?”

Charlotte cleared her throat, her gaze lowered as she began her explanation, “At the moment, we each take home a wage to pay for lodgings and food and such things. However, if we were married then we would only need a smaller wage each as we could save on many things – such as when we are both working at home we could share candles, like we do here, instead of needing to have one each. And we could spend that money on the business instead.”

She had done the sums for a great many items, but in her haste to explain the idea before she lost her nerve she had rushed past her suggestions for lodgings and other larger savings, and skipped to the end of her proposal. If she had made such a silly mistake with a potential investor she would have immediately corrected herself and explained further, but Stringer was staring at her with such a blank look that her mouth began to dry up.

“Well?” she prompted when she had grown impatient with his silence.

His mouth continued to hang open ungracefully for some time. When he finally spoke she could not comprehend his tone, though his diction was painfully clear, “You want to get married to save on _candles_?”

“Not _just_ candles; I have prepared all the figures.” She slid her piece of paper across the desk towards him before interlacing her fingers so he could not see how they trembled.

His eyes darted towards the paper, but Charlotte thought he had not really looked it over before he turned away sharply. “Charlotte, I can’t.”

He so rarely used her Christian name, but when he did it was usually in jest or with pride at her good sense. This time his utterance felt pained and it hurt more than anything else could have. Charlotte felt that she had done something very wrong indeed. “Well,” she said with a false brightness, “no matter then.”

She began folding her papers, although she could feel his eyes staring at the side of her head.

“Will you not ask me why?”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Charlotte continued in the same cheerful tone as before, fighting to hold it at the roughness in his. She busied her hands with tidying up so she did not have to look at him. “If you do not wish to that is all the reason I need.”

The ensuing awkward silence was punctuated only by the shuffling of her papers and the sound of his heavy footsteps taking her previous place by the window.

“I did not think we were doing badly,” he said finally, gazing out onto the street. “Especially now with Mrs. Croft’s investment.”

“No, we’re not.”

“But even a small amount of savings could help?”

“A small amount can always help. But still, we shouldn’t do it if you don’t like the idea. Just because you have not been thinking of marriage now doesn’t mean one day you won’t meet someone you might want to marry.”

“I won’t,” he replied with more certainty than she could have expected. He let out a harsh breath, twisting to face her. “Charlotte, you know I would gladly give anything I could to help our business. But I cannot marry you like that, not when –”

“Not when what?” she prompted, her breath caught in her chest when he didn’t continue.

He looked at her plaintively. “Surely you must know by now Charlotte,” he said, letting out a wry laugh. “Lord knows, everyone else does.”

“Knows what?” she asked softly.

The air seemed to deflate within him, a look of sad resignation over his face. “That I love you.”

“ _Oh_.” She stood frozen to the spot, unable to move from shock at his admission. Then as realisation struck she cried, “Oh, I have been so foolish.”

He shook his head quickly. “It is not your fault. It is a very sensible idea and would that I could –”

“No, it is a stupid idea that I only thought of because I realised one day Mrs. Croft or some other lady like her would take you away,” Charlotte admitted in a rush.

His brows wrinkled. “My getting married wouldn’t take me away from the business –“

“But it would take you from _me_!”

Stringer blinked, realisation of his own dawning. “Charlotte…”

She ran around the desk towards him and he took a long stride to meet her halfway, arms clasping around her waist as she flung hers around his shoulders. “Oh, I do love you, James,” she said once her face was buried in the safety of his chest and felt his arms tighten their hold on her in response. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Well,” he began, voice unfamiliarly hoarse, even if the teasing that followed was not, “you might need to improve your drawing skills for the designs, but I’m sure with some training Jem could take over the books.”

She laughed into his shoulder despite herself, pouting when she looked up at him.

His eyes were soft like she had never seen before. “You shall not have to find out,” he whispered, a tentative hand reaching up to brush some of her hair out of her face. Charlotte brought her hand up to hold his in place against her cheek, smiling up at him sweetly.

“Do you promise?”

His answering smile was brighter than the candlelight that still flickered on top of their shared desks. “I do, Miss.”

Charlotte laughed again as Stringer brought his head down closer to hers.

“Have you known for a long time that you loved me?” she wondered suddenly, interrupting his movement.

“Yes.”

“A _very_ long time?”

He laughed in surprise, his thumb tracing a faint line down her cheek. “Does it signify?”

“Well, could you not have told me before?” Charlotte asked seriously. “And what did you mean _everyone_ knows?”

Stringer sighed, letting his forehead rest against hers. “You know I am always happy to answer your questions, Charlotte, but tonight do you think they might wait long enough for me to kiss you?”

“Oh. Yes, I think so,” she agreed, closing her eyes.

And Charlotte found she could not think of any questions for quite some time.

“Miss Charlotte?”

Charlotte and Stringer broke apart at the call, managing to stand a respectable distance away from one another when the door sprung open.

Jem stared at them, his brows furrowed. “Mr. Stringer, I didn’t see you come in. I heard a noise and wanted to see if Miss Charlotte was alright.”

They had admittedly knocked the shelf in such a way that a number of books fell to the floor, but it had not seemed significant to either in the midst of their embrace.

“Thank you for checking, Jem. I am quite well, as you can see,” Charlotte replied, brushing her skirt down. She was in fact extremely flushed and her hair a mess, though Stringer’s hair had fared worse and his necktie was quite askew. They could only hope Jem would not study them too closely.

Jem nodded before stepping towards the mess on the floor.

Charlotte and Stringer both rushed to tell him no, much to his surprise. Tidying was, after all, one of his regular tasks.

“Don’t worry Jem, Mr. Stringer and I will take care of this.”

“I will see Miss Heywood home, Jem,” Stringer said, his voice noticeably rougher than normal. “You go on for tonight.”

“But I haven’t finished downstairs –” Jem began.

“You can finish it tomorrow,” Charlotte said. “You have worked very hard this week, you should have an early night.”

Jem still seemed unsure and Charlotte was well aware she had only hours earlier stipulated which tasks he must complete that evening. But he was not the sort to argue, and so thanked her in agreement. “Goodnight Miss Charlotte, Mr. Stringer.”

They both bade him goodnight, waiting until they had heard the front door shut downstairs to laugh at their near-discovery.

“I suppose we should fix this,” Stringer said, bending to pick up some of the books off the floor.

“We should,” Charlotte agreed, watching him return the first few to their rightful places. “Or we could wait a little longer…”

“Is that so?”

“After all,” Charlotte said closing the gap between them and taking one of his hands in hers, “it is not as if you will be seeing me home _quite_ yet. Will you?”

He smiled back at her, leaning forward. She closed her eyes in anticipation but instead of feeling his lips on hers, she felt only the sensation of his free hand brushing the hair away from face.

She gasped softly when he placed a kiss to the side of her neck, holding him close.

“I am entirely at your disposal.”

**Author's Note:**

> ETA Jan 2020: Now reveals have happened I've made an edit for this fic [here on my tumblr](https://useyourtelescope.tumblr.com/post/189992828788/keep-the-candlelight-burning-for-me-sanditon).


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